


Siren song

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 08:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20636351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: The waters aren't always safe, even for experienced sailors.But Isabela's always had lady luck on her side.





	Siren song

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that I don't own Dragon Age or any of its content.** I merely play in the sandbox Bioware created.

The warnings start off harmless enough, the beginning whispers of the horror stories she heard from many a seasoned sailor, glimpsed in the remnants of terror in their eyes as they swear up and down to their dying breath they'll never set foot in the sea again.

A damaged net here, cut ropes there, lanterns doused by unnatural sprays, and the fish for supper gone suddenly to rot.

Harmless, but inconvenient. Calling cards like the tracks she spies in the hull, claws come up from the deep gouging into her ship as the hunter draws ever closer to its prey. Her men, most certainly, but not her. Never her. Isabela will not be chased from the home she makes in the waves. No person, beast, or whim of nature will steal from her the only life she cares to know.

And then the song comes to them in the dead of night, the sea at gentle slumber. An inhuman voice, soft and melodious, words too faint to hear clearly but unique to every soul, a summon and promise both._ Come to me_, the message on the wind, _come to me and be free._

Squabbles break out above and below deck as the experienced lot fight to restrain the new members of the crew, jam plugs in their ears to save them from the siren's call. Isabela loses five by sunrise, blood and bone in the water, a single skull mounted on the helm. No longer fun and games, warning no more. Threat, without question. _Leave, or suffer the consequences._

But where do they flee to, where do they run, when they're in the middle of the big ocean blue?

* * *

Foul weather comes to them next, stirred by the siren's ire, gales battering them, tides working against them, travel so choppy as to test the hardiest stomach and even Isabela is put through her paces. A moment's distraction and the ship slips from her control, creaks and moans and turns as someone _else _dictates and their strength vibrates through her bones. Phantom wind a caress on her hands and husky laughter stirring the hair spilling loose and wild about her ears. _You lose_.

But Isabela isn't shy in baring her own teeth, flashing her own claws, throws a spear of thought and intent for the runes etched by a friend's hand, Merrill's earthen magic lying dormant in every inch of her ship. A piece of _land_ coming awake at her fingertips, sprouting thorns and splinters and poison flowers and there's a shriek cutting through the air, louder than crashing waves and the looming threat of thunder. Pain slashes across her cheek and blood wells, the first drawn, and she _laughs_ in the face of danger, laughs as the siren's presence mists away.

"You will not best _me."_

* * *

Its voice is useless around her, _for _her, cannot lure her from her post as Captain, cannot tempt her from the protective cradle of her ship. Weaker and weaker with every song, until it fades to nothing at all, and Isabela thinks it done, abandoning them for an easier meal.

Instead she finds a woman in her quarters one night, scales on her legs and gills at her neck and inky darkness surrounding the lyrium blue of eyes fixed on her, boring through her, cutting her down to the soul. She sits up in the bed of furs, plucking one up between webbed hands and tossing it aside in distaste.

"You are most vexing for a land walker," the siren rasps, needle-sharp teeth glinting with every word.

"That's where you're wrong, sweet thing. The _sea_ is my home."

"Home to _you? _You, as ill-suited to water as I am to air? I think _not_."

"Aw, what a shame. And here I was about to call you Hawke."

* * *

She does, months later, when the siren takes to courting her instead. A bird of prey, flying through her realm of blue and grey, and Isabela not far behind, pirate queen skirting the line of danger and flirting with its mistress.


End file.
